RPlog:Small Depot Defense
Deep space; the never ending blackness was only offset by the stars and nearby suns. This time a nearby sun provided enough light to constantly light the small depot run by the Imperial military. There were supplies of all kinds, but probably the most valuable would be the fuel. Guarding it was only a small flight of 10 TIE MkII fighters and 2 scimitar bombers. Not a whole lot, but the NR was not expected. The depot was quiet, and not too far inside the system was the HIMS Broadsword, a medium strike class cruiser. But that would be brought in only if there was trouble, so whatever the NR wanted they would have to be quick about it should they raid the place.. Sub-Lieutenant Ricoar sniffles. Allergies starting up again, even in this damn cockpit in the middle of nowhere. The damn bulky helmet didn't help much, or the fact that this was so damn boring. At least there hadn't been any attacks on them yet. A few days ago his unit was assaulted in space by raiders, destroying a cruiser, a frigate, and two of his comrades. But they had forced the raiders into a retreat, and they were now once more ferrying convoys and protecting supplies and resources. At the controls of Alpha 3, Ricoar whisltes to himself, trying to push his ailment to the back of his mind. Being caught with the sniffles in a firefight wouldn't do him much good. "How long do they intend to keep us out here, Lead? I want to hit the bars on Imperial Center." Slush, AKA Flight Officer Molokai, has taken the lead as they deployed, the first Scimitar pulling slightly ahead with the second bomber pulling up just to her left with the 10 fighers falling into formation behind her. "I want a broad sensor sweep from every single one of you, gentlemen. And I do not want us to stray too far from each other. No one will patrol alone. No one will be cocky and try to do something stupid....Oh hell. I don't know. They'll keep us out here as long as they feel like it, I suppose, Alpha 3. Even longer if we mess up. Which is not an option, understood?" It is at this moment that a blip on the sensors appears should any be paying attention to such. One, then two. Four, five, eight.... The New Republic has chosen this instillation, this reservoir to strike, and this moment to do such. At their lead, Lance Corbet, aka Wildman, in Ghost Six. His fingers touch at the controls, setting the comm system to the ships he has come with, each seemingly melting into existance simultaneously. "This is Wildman. Form up, and let's get going. Blue team, I want you to punch through, and draw them from the cargo. We'll be right behind, taking up their flanks. Our companions will be last in, hitting the container. Understood?" Without giving them chance to reply, the young pilot's voice is once more heard, as he gives the order. "Strike!" Nestled into the cockpit of a fighter that has become a regular in these little raids, the Z95a Headhunter Mark II, Cyclopean Rage, Gren immediately raises shields as his starfighter exits hyperspace, glancing over his shoulder, just in time to see the Marauder Cruiser, Eternal Vigilance arrive. This has been practiced, and trio of Hornet interceptors launch, hired for the duration of this operation. The fighters form up on Delede's wing, even as he's pushing his throttle forward, and cutting through space, toward the containers, and their fighter escort. "Raid Three, Four, I want those containers scanned, Vigilance, follow them into the depot...join in the search. If they want to fight you, let them do it amongst the containers." Should provide for more difficult firing angles, at least, for the Imperials. Not their problem is some cargo gets blown up. "Raid Two: Form on my wing. We will knock down anything that poses a threat to our 'vette. Let the X-wings handle the fighters, unless you are directly threatened." The small flight breaks in half, and separate. It is just as the other ships get into their asigned postions that they come up onto Molokai's sensors and she growls, her body tensing. The one thing they were kind of hoping wouldn't happen -did- and they have enemy ships inbound to prove it. "Zeta 2, this is Lead. I need you to take 5 fighters and engage the fighters. Alpha 3, you're going to go with Zeta 2. Fire as soon as they're in range. The rest of the fighters, come with me. We're going to defend the depot. Same orders stand, fire at will." She banks her ship hard and to the right, the others following with her as she races towards where the fuel's being held. She sees one of the X-wings come up into her sights and she, along with her wingmen, begin to fire, the fighters using their lasers while she launches a torpedo at it." What happens when a TIE pilot sneezes? There's no place for the guck to go except right back in his face. Ricoar does his best to keep his sneezes back, although he isn't sure how long he can last. "Don't worry, ma'am, you can count on us. Those rebels learned their lesson last time around," he says, his voice garbled somewhat by the allergies he was suffering from. 'Don't sneeze, don't sneeze...' he says to himself. Moments later, however, any thoughts of sneezing are quickly put aside as his sensors indicate the new arrivals - bearing enemy IFF tags. "I thought we left this party!" he says over the radio, cursing to himself. As his orders come in, Ricoar confirms and throws his throttle over to starboard. He lines up with Zeta 2, the Scimitar he was ordered to fly cover for, and accelerates in towards the incoming bogies. "They won't get past us this time..." He begins to open fire on the closet Hornet, spraying blasts from the TIE's wing-tipped laser cannons at the enemy interceptor. "Let's give 'em hell!" With that, Ricoar sneezes. "They're breaking up. Two through five, you're with me. Six through eight, I want you to break through the middle, driving the remaining TIE's into two groups." Confirmations come over the comm, his S-Foils unfurling to attack position. Though as one of the TIE's goes for the Hornets, Lance amends his orders. "Three, on my wing. Two, four, and five, follow six through eight in, and clean up the mess." Pivoting on his right wing, Wildman makes haste straight for Ricoar's TIE, coming in from the front and side. "Learn to mind your own business..." he murmers to himself as his finger gently squeezes down on his trigger, sending out quad fire at his given target. With the battle underway, Gren smiles slowly as his space-superiority fighter tears toward the fray..."Ghosts, we'll handle the bombers. I don't want them to shred the Marauder. Just keep those fighters off of my 'inspectors.' Some old habits die hard, and his tone, while not exactly trying to give orders, makes it clear, that Delede is used to being in charge. "Vigilance. Any container that /isn't/ the fuel. Destroy it as you pass." A snap-roll to port, as the Z95a enters the melee, his targeting reticle passing across the bow of Zeta 2, at which a flurry of red death is pumped. The Eternal Vigilance continues to cruise, somewhat more quickly than your average Marauder, toward the supply depoy, it's turbolasers firing at any opposition that enters it's range, with it's forward arrays targeting cargo containers that become eliminated with it's first few seconds of scanning. The battle had just started, but the Imperial response was not far behind. Liza had engaged the enemy and the NR had returned fire back, but neither side was in a position of loss. Though it could get ugly, and fast. The HIMS Broadsword at that very instant dropped out of hyperspace, it was very, very close. The microjump left the strike cruiser in range to deploy fighters, but not to participate in the battle. Very soon it would be deploying more craft, and when that time came the battle would really be in full swing. As the enemy begins to shoot at the depot stores as well as the Imperial fighters and bombers, Liza finds herself growling once she catches sight of some of the ships which seem hellbent on distruction. "Failure is not an option.." she growls to her comrades as well as to herself, a reminder of what she was told during her briefing earlier. The Marauder is glared at but she keeps her objective simple for now, picking smaller targets that are trying to hit the cargo at first, allowing the other group to take some of the stragling fighters. "Come in and flank them.." she says to Zeta 2..." And my group follow my lead, use lasers.." she says to her own wingmen while she finds the first x-wing they shot at in hopes of at lease disabling the ship via a voller of lasers and well-placed torps. Ricoar isn't the best shot in the Empire.. far from it. And his sneeze has done enough to distract him in the wake of his attack that he comes under attack by one of the rebels... the laser blast rams into his shield, reducing their effectiveness by several degrees while sending his TIE careening off course. Spinning, Ricoar tries to readjust and regain control so that a follow-up attack doesn't finish him off... cursing, Ricoar blames all his bad luck on his allergies and fights the controls. As Ricoar manages to regain control and still live, the Broadsword sweeps in from nearby, a microjump putting her just several hundred meters from him. Good... now those rebels will learn. Smirking, Ricoar throws his TIE back on course and sweeps in at another Hornet, sweeping in on its port side flank and unleashing several blasts from the laser cannons. They would defend the fuel and supplies at all cost... even if it meant his life. Because if the fuel fell into their hands, he doesn't want to live to know what his commanders will do to him back at Imperial Center. Ricoar doesn't like his chances. "We must've missed the invitation to the dance," Dante is commenting via ship-to-ship over the comm to her wingman as Razor Squadron deploys from the Inquisitor. "Break right," she orders, clearing the way for the next pair and the following pair to emerge mere moments later. Razor Squadron, all six fighters, maneuver briefly into formation then engage engines to approach the rally point where Molokai and the rest of the bombers are already having fun. Not quite within firing range yet she and the rest of her squadron are already running firing simulations and scanning the area intently for possible late-comers to the dance, like they are. As the TIE goes veering off course, Lance turns his attention to Ricoar's wingman. "How's it going over there, Raptor?" he asks, his sights swiftly settling on the other TIE fighter. Sighting through his targetting sensors, Wildman waits but a matter of moments, ere a precise lock is calculated, and soon his finger squeezes on the trigger once again, sending out another volley of quad laser fire at the new target. A series of beepings alert Gren to the atromech's message on one of his display panels..."We have incoming, folks. I count a half-dozen Squints. And, my hornets just found the container...sending the coordinates to Vigilance. Re-join the flight, Three, Four." A smile, and Delede watches as his wingman opens fire on Zeta-2, the second Scimitar. Which free's the Z-95a to target the other scimitar, flown by Liza. A roll to starboard, and his targeting reticle settles over the bomber, and a second later, a proton torpedo is barreling toward the bulky TIE. Flying on Ghost six's wing, Raxis "Raptor" L'ygr has been quiet for most of the affair. Deciding in a strange fashion to let Flight Officer Corbet handle the wing regardless of his superior rank to give him some leadership experience. Grinning to himself with a lowered brow, he raps his knuckles against the front of his helmet for luck and grits his teeth. "Allright, Vee-Ten, get programs primed for shield repair. We're going in." He grunts as he opens the comm to Ghost Six. All games were off as Razor Squadron begins to show on his radar. "Allright Lance let's make these bastards hurt. I'm watching your back let's cook these pigs, following your flight plan. More TIEs inbound." Raxis blurts out over the comms. Protectively covering Lance, Raxis matches shot for shot and unleashes a volley at Ricoar's X-wing to clear a path in unison with his wingman. Grumbling as he straps himself into the captain's chair, Xar'on growls, "Just keep them bastiches off my back this time, One-Eye." Barking at the crew, he orders, "Get them coordinates laid in 'n head straight fer the target. Forward guns keep blastin' away at the other containers. All other guns, watch fer the party-poopers." "Alright..I want a heads up. They seem to be pretty intent on taking out those containers and we can't afford to lose them. Zeta 2, I want you to buzz the cruiser that's targeting them. We are going to try and take out another fighter." She targets another (npc) X-Wing and she moves in for the kill, the fighters coming along behind her as she does so. Once within range, they widen their formation and take fire, all 6 of them using lasers, this time. Krieg had been not far away onboard the Broadsword for this mission. He was watching from a small viewscreen in his cockpit when half the Razors launched to the battle. He wanted to see if Raxis was back out on the line, and if that was the case he wanted to ride out and meet him once again. Give him a real taste for fighting Imperials. In Raptor I once more he takes off from the Broadsword, his craft being marked with a cerulean blue pinstrip around the craft. He didn't have to say much, instead he merely transmitted to the x-wings on a select band his craft identification. Catching enough of the situation to know where to at least aim her squadron in the right direction, Dante keeps an eye on the bombers while spreading her attention around to the enemy assets in theatre and, of course, the containers that seems to be the focal point of the dance. "Five and Six, lend a hand to the bombers. Three and four get between the enemy and those containers, provide cover fire. Alpha 2," she begins and before she can continue her wingman replies, "I know, into the fire," and there's laughter over the comm. Alpha's 1 and 2 move up to engage, opening fire Raptor in return for his fire on Molokai.+m 2 scims As Razor squadron slips amidst the cargo containers, Lance in the cockpit of Ghost Six comes over the comm to Raxis. "Raptor, this is Wildman. I'm heading in after those TIE's. I can't let them ravage our troops." And without another word, not allowing his wingman to protest his intentions, Ghost Six is sent dipping into the fray. Coming up directly behind the lead, Dante's ship, Lance narrows his gaze, sighting down the TIE as he follows in pursuit. "I've got you..." he murmers to himself, waiting for a better targetting lock, ere finally squeezing down the trigger, and letting loose a spray of quad laser fire at her aft section. The one-eyed pilot can't help but frown when his missile is avoided, but it disappears as Gren's fighter jinks to avoid a Tie's passing shot, but the pilot doesn't alter is target, nor his preferred method of firing. The Cyclopean Rage's targeting computer begins to growl as he gets a momentary lock on Liza's Scimitar, and a blue torpedo jets toward the newer bomber variant of the TIE. "I'll do my best, Doc." A glance, at his scopes, at the urging of SH0RTY, and he see's the second, shield-damaged TIE making a run toward his cruiser..."Raid Flight, target the second Scimitar...Vigilance, I'd suggest you take it out, if you can.." Xar'on takes in the activity on the bridge as the container they hit is damaged, but not destroyed. He nods when the helmsman indicates they were at the transmitted coordinates. He growls, "All guns, defensive posture. Try 'n keep them gnats off our back while we get the mail." Into the comms, he barks, "Alright, Gren, we're about to bring it in. I reck'n they ain't gonna let us. Be nice if you boys could keep 'n eye out. Or we're having a bad day." The Vigilance's turbolasers begin to fire upon the scimitar while Xar'on orders all tractor beams onto the target container. "Wildman, Raptor I is Krieg and it looks like we've got the Alpha's we've seen them before..." Raxis calls out on a private transmission to Ghost 6, dodging and weaving through the combat. "He launched late...he's either looking for something or got something up his sleeve." Raxis calls out, dodging and rolling in his trademark hyperactive style as he works hard to keep his opponents guessing. Jerking the flight yoke, Raxis opens to tactical channel and follows into the furball with Ghost Six. "What's the status on those Scims?" He radios to their accompanying battlegroup as he rushes towards Dante's fightergroup alongside Lance. Picking the same target to match firepower, Raxis unleashes a salvo of blasterfire at Dante. (xwing/laser vs. Dante) With shields blown, Molokai veers away from the majority of the ships, calling the fighters to cover her while she attempts to get her shields up. "You know, command, this would be a pretty good time for a little extra firepower..." she mutters outloud while she works the switches. "I want these fighters and that Mauarder taken care of. Life or death...remember that. Our lives..their deaths." She looks agout her and then grunts to those fighters accompanying her, "Find a target and deal with it." Answering in the affirmative, they find Delede and they open fire upon him while they're leader works on getting her shields up to full. Watching the events unfold he saw Liza taking a beating, but through his scanners he could tell they wouldn't be on her forever. Diving into the fray he saw the Razors handle themselves, but it was Liza who needed the bailing. Picking up on her attacker he knew he was shooting caution to the wind, but it was time for them to pick on someone their own size. Bombers were too easy of targets. He transmits to the pilots, "Bombers, breakaway. That container is lost and they're only taking one. Fighters, engage and cover. The bomber make it out alive." Getting a good target he squeezes the trigger, sending green fire towards Delede's craft. (TIE at Delede) Also, Liza didn't know it but the latest hits had sent fragments into the cockpit. she might not have noticed it but her copilot was dead, the blood unseen still to either of them. The heat of combat had a way of taking away that ability to notice, but when she does she'll either keep her cool and press on or break. The choice was up to her. "Had some slight malfunction, Lead," Ricoar says finally, flying back into the fray at full-speed. "Guess that list hit hurt more than I realized." Things were pretty bad for Ricoar; he was hit and sent careening off track, and he sneezed into his helmet, making it very uncomfortable and rather annoying for him. And he still hasn't recovered from his allergy attack. Just great... and from the looks of things, they were getting their butts handed to them. Sighing, Ricoar reserves himself to his fate: there's little chance he's getting out of this in one piece, and even if he did, he wasn't much expecting a warm welcome home. He zooms in on the same Hornet from before, figuring he can knock it out now that it had damaged shields, and opens fire. Razor's 5 and 6 weren't close enough at first to be of adequate firing shield but mere moments after the shields are read as being out on Zeta-1, Razor's 5 and 6 move into position. "We're reading your shields as down, Zeta-1," says Alpha-5 over the ship to ship comm. Meanwhile Alpha's 3 and 4 get the order to break way from their intended objective of protecting those containers. Alpha 1's first shot only impacts against the shields , no damage done. Before they can maneuver to a better attack vector Ghost-6 fires on Alpha-1 but, with some colorful invective, she rolls out of the line of fire, taking Alpha-2 with her. Spotting the distinctive hull markings, she identifies Wildman and opens a focused band of comm signal and calls out her opening sally, "Looks like you got a new Paint job there, Ghost-6." The grin on her face and accompanying laughter from Alpha-2 fades as she's fired on again, this time from Raxis, she and Alpha-2 maneuver away from each other to avoid the possibility of being hit and or having collateral damage. For some reason this amuses Dante, man does she have an unusual sense of humor anyway. Tucking into a tight spiral roll, Dante fires on Raxis as she completes the arc of the spin. "Let's pick up the pace, boys!" calls Lance over the comm to all affiliated ships, casting an uncomfortable glance towards the HIMS Broadsword. It is at this point that Dante's voice comes over his comm, and he intakes a steadying breath. Finger flicking the comm, his own voice shifts out, echoing in Alpha One's cockpit. "And a shiney new ship, too. Though, I figure fair's fair, and I'll give you a new paintjob next." Shifting over to ship to ship with Ghost Three, Wildman growls a curse under his breath as fingers play over the controls. "Who had my ship while I was out of commision? I'd -really- like to get my hands on him, and rearrange his face, as he rearranged my settings." Without further words, Ghost Six sweeps low, ducking, ere coming up from beneath Dante, firing his quad lasers once more, aimed at her TIE. Now, Gren has a choice. Continue targeting the bulky bomber, or turn to face his newest target, with it's distinctive paint job. Well, a squint is a better kill than a war-head machine, any day. "Xar'on, have all gunners focus on the Scimitar that I was engaging, ignore the other." This is transmitted to the Vigilance, as the Z-95a's pilot hauls back on his stick, a cursory check given to confirm that his shields took only a bit of damage. He is not one to talk over the comms to his enemies, but he can't help but transmit a message across space to his new target, as he delivers a blue torpedo in the nimble squint's direction. "I've already downed a number of your pilots in the past few days. One twice, I believe. You can be the next." His voice is very clearly Coruscanti, even over the radio, it displays the inflections of someone who spent time among the Imperial elite of that planet. Narrowly dodging a shot by Dante, Raxis recognizes the voice over the communicator and narrows his eyes. Quickly the memory of a conversation he had with his XO, Kesander Beysarus, flashes through his mind about confidence. "C'mon Rax you can do this..." He urges himself as he begins being tailed by her TIE. Breathing heavily, Raxis growls and literally slams his throttle to cut as his growl quickly becomes a roar, as he caps on the open comm and yanks his ship into a daredevil turn. Sliding in space for a moment, he spins and opens fire on Dante's TIE. "We want our families back you horse-faced b---!!!" He yells over the comm as he furies into a salvo of blasterfire towards her ship, the last of his statement blurred out over the booming shots of blasterfire echoing through his cockpit into the comm. The loss is indeed noticed and Liza grunts, her eyes going wide as she grits her teeth. "What part of 'Our lives..' didn't you get..?" she growls to the dead man beside her as she shakes it off, her body tensing as she looks around. "Damnit. I want all fighters to group up and take formation with me. So much for not failing. Command, what are orders?" "Score one for Ricoar!" he shouts, happy to see one of the Hornets go down in a blaze of glory. That'll teach them to mess with him, eh? But, elsewhere, the battle is not faring so well. Apparently they lost... lost... how can they lose? They're pilots of the Galactic Empire. His new orders are sent in, and Ricoar, the ever loyal pilot, has no choice but to break off from his next attack, pull back, and group with along Liza's starboard flank. "What's going on, Lead? This is the third hit against us in less than two weeks - we're getting our butts kicked! We definitely need some heavy fire power." Like a Star Destroyer, or Star Dreadnought. Something big, something behemoth. Maybe High Command just can't spare 'em? Sighing, Ricoar keeps his starfighter in line with Liza's as they await further orders. "Horse-faced, eh?" is Dante return comment to Raxis, more laughter, "is that all you got up your sleeve? Bad attempts at insults and even worse attempts at weapons play?" She makes a 'tsk-tsk' sound into the open come, neatly avoiding his attempts - both weapon and verbal. "Come back when you're armed and trained better, kid," she calls out, the amusement clear in her voice as she silences her end of the comm. Doing so in time, of course, to spot the Marshall engaging in defense of the bombers, "Holy Frak," is Dante's two word statement, mercifully it was OFF channel and not on it. "Alpha's form up on me," she orders simply, maneuvering her fighter into position alongside Krieg's TIE, her instructions guiding the rest of her squadron into forming a firing shield between the bomber squadron and the enemy assets in theatre. "Sir," she begins via ship-to-ship, trying to raise the Marshall on channel, "Razor squadron is in position, what's your status?" The torpedo came right at him, and in a sacrificial move to protect Liza from the onslaught of extra fire upon her craft he took the torpedo full on, his lasers being too close of range to actually hit the target. His craft is engulfed in a major cloud of fire as the torpedo impacts and detonates on his shields, throwing sparks metal and anything else you can imagine into his armor. The craft comes out the other side of the fireball in an uncontrolled spin, characterstic of a dead fighter. Krieg capitalizes on this fact and disables the IFF, showing him as a destroyed craft, unable to do anything. He attempts to bring shields back online, but it more than likely is a useless effort as his craft is far beyond the damage level to sustain normal operations. With his IFF going out, the Broadsword reacts, moving into the area and launching another 6 fighters and 10 scimitar bombers. End Game was soon approaching. As for the comm chatter, there was none from the Marshal. Spiralling away from the battle, Lance makes his way back towards the Marauder. Flicking on the comm for the entire squadron, he calls out, "Nice work. Get out of here with that cargo, and we'll be right behind you. The rest of you, form up on me." Coming about, and soon facing off with the line of TIE's, Lance intakes a breath, staring out his cockpit window towards Dante in her TIE. A frown creases his brows, and he takes note of the newly deployed ships. "Hurry up..." he murmers, more to himself than the others, eyeing the newly arrived threat. The pilot of the Z-95a has some issues with the Empire, and it's apparent in his next maneuver, as the star-fighter's speed is cut, and his reticle hovers over the 'destroyed' Squint, a burst of deadly red-fire sent ripping toward Krieg's fighter, deciding that it's going to be unsalvageable if he can help it. "This is Raid Lead, Ghosts. Thanks for the cover. Vigilance, collect the surviving Hornets, and head home. I'll stick around with the Reb...Republic pilots. and cover you." This is transmitted over the allied tactical channel, even as his own fighters tears toward the Marauder, ready to take up formation with the X-wings, when he is close enough. Xar'on growls, "Signal the Hornets in. All guns provide coverin' fire. Make sure the cargo is secured 'n undamaged." He switches over to the assigned frequency and says, "Vigilance here, boys 'n girls. We got the package aboard 'n secured. Last of our birds is in 'n we're jumpin' out. Gren, how many times do I gotta remind you that I'm a damn doctor. I'm too old fer this sh.." the signal cuts out as the Vigilance jumps to lightspeed. "Eyes on the prize..." Raxis says to himself beneath the comm as Dante turns from their fight. Lining up a missile lock, Raxis narrows his eyes as Lance's order to form up comes over the comm. "Warfare..." Raxis says to himself, as he accepts Dante's unit covering Krieg's and lets her take up the mantle of shield. "One thing you forgot about Dante..." Raxis mutters over the open comm. "...you're going to have to kill me to keep me away." He says, thumbing a proton torpedo at her before turning to rejoin with his fighter group. "Fox Two." With cunning skill it would take no less than an expert pilot to take the damage to his craft like Krieg did. Normally losing a solar array would send a TIE out of control and destroyed into space, but for Krieg he was able to manuever it in such a way that the strike was surgical, the solar array more about breaking apart and off the fighter in a controlled manner. Anyone in the battle wouldn't see that the craft was still under some control, and that was good for Krieg. The fighters had stayed too long, however, as their Maruader was gone the HIMS Broadsword was not. It was quickly moving into weapons range and was firing some long range warning shots to provide cover for its fighters and escort craft, the extra fighters entering combat. Though Krieg could not fight or manuever further as his craft was out of commission - he had to shut it down at the time of solr array impact as to not put it in a death spiral - he was in a good position for recovery, the shuttle to get him was on its way now. The sight of the Marshal's ship accompanied by the lack of communications has Liza startled but she soon growls and begins to talk hurriedly as if everyone's lives depended on how fast she could get the words out of her mouth. "Alpha 1. This is Slush. I've had enough of this poodoo. Fall back. I..." Grunting, she maneuvers her ship, angling it slightly towards where the explosion was while she shakes her head. "Command, this is Zeta 1. Any word from the Marshal?" She scans the area herself before she shakes her head. "I don't think I'm in any condition to fight." Punching in a few co-ords, she radios into Command for a recovery team, unknowing that it has already happened and things are not what they appear to be. "Raptor," Dante says via the comm after he misses -again-, "you are what's called 'all hat, no herd'," she says simply. "Seriously, do you need me to land and paint my fighter myself, send you the telemetry and targeting info and THEN add some of my OWN fire to it in order to hit the broadside of a bantha?" she taunts, that's right, taunts Raptor. While doing so, of course, she has a real job on her hands. She maneuver's her fighter into a tight orbit around the Marshall, her squadron deployed between the Bombers and the retreating rebels, Alpha-2 taking up position on an alternating axis to provide protection for the Marshall. "Ghosts, my people are clear. Let's get out of here...hope to fly with you soon." A glance, at his scanners, and Gren reaches up to wrap his hand around his hyperspace lever. "We'll have to tally up kills, later." A smile, behind his blast shield, and the Z-95a enters hyperspace, safe in the knowledge that the X-wings will be right behind him. Snug, traveling at faster than the speed of light, Delede procures a deathstick from his black TIE flightsuit, and lights up. Secure in victory. "Yeah yeah...well you and that blondie of yours are actually quite striking for murderers..." Raxis chuckles over the comm, punching in the last of his coordinates. "Record this. Hey Krieg? Are you listening? YOU leave now and never come back. You got lucky today you rotten bastard. You've met the random and pissed off cannons of the New Republic that with gladly stare death in the face because it's OUR choice to resist. Perhaps today you live because of OUR grace." Raxis spits over the comm with a hint of humor over his voice. "We may miss, crash, die, and bleed but I promise you this. We are going to win this war. You won't kill us all and you'll see exactly what you reap for decades of tyranny and murder. Now put some bacta on that beloved Marshal of ours and realize that we stung you badly today. Raptor out." He comms, and then in an instant, jumps into hyperspace after the Marauder. Ghost Six is the last ship to leave the line, though it could not happen soon enough for the young pilot. As the last of the ships leaves, Wildman seems reluctant, almost hesitant as he stares out into space. Freezing up, hand hovering over the controls, images flash within his mind, of the last time he stared out his cockpit window at a great ship. For several moments, Lance remains as such, though as one warning shot comes too close for comfort, he is snapped out of his flashback. Sweat beads and trickles down his brow, and soon, his hands go to work punching in the coordinates for the hyper jump. With one final shot grazing his shields, and one last look at the TIE's, Ghost Six spins about, and disappears in a blur into hyperspace.